A Spartan In America
by juggernaut715
Summary: Kratos wakes up in a hospital in the present day. Athena's there-but she's as clueless as he is. How will The Ashen Warrior integrate-or attempt to-into daily life in the world today? First step? Clothes. Second step? Somewhere to live. Harder than it sounds when you're an eight foot tall battle hardened warrior with chains burned onto your forearms. Possible romance, not sure yet.
1. Chapter 1

**Kratos' head hurt like a centaur had stomped on it. He opened his eyes to find his forearms ordained with the same old chains burned into his flesh. But there was something different. He was in a...dress? And in a bed.**

"What..." He murmured, lifting his arm to find something piercing his veins at his elbow and wrist. He pulled the tiny spears of metal out, liquid dripping from their tips. He didn't feel weakened by a poison-so it wasn't one. It didn't even register as an itch. He sat up, looking down at the odd gown that he wore, and snarled, ripping it off. He heard a loud noise he'd never heard before as he pulled a tiny clamp off his finger and stood up, shrugging off whatever was left of the gown.

"The patient in room C is out of bed!" He heard someone call out through the wall. It didn't sound like they were speaking Greek-so how did he understand. The room was all white, with pictures of things he didn't understand on the walls. Bright lights, fake ones, that he couldn't even comprehend were above his head. And the ground was like marble, but...an imitation. The door, one better made than any he'd seen before, opened, and a woman a foot shorter than him entered the room.

"Sir, you have to lay back down, you were-"

"What is this place?" Kratos said, quietly, cutting her off. She made a move to step towards him but stopped when he raised one of his massive arms. "I have never seen such things in all my years, be it as a Spartan or as a God..." He brought his palm to the heart monitoring device. The woman behind him muttered a curse and walked back out of the room.

"He's delusional!" She called out. When she turned back into the room she found her throat within the grip of someone who'd killed more people than she'd see in her entire life.

"Where am I?! Where are my swords?!" Slowly, she was lifted off the ground, high enough that her head touched the doorway-Kratos was 6'4, and plenty strong enough to do this with one hand. "Where is Athena? Is this some ploy of hers?" He could hear people behind the woman he was holding start screaming. He blocked it out. The woman was just scrabbling on his chained forearms, barely able to speak. "Useless woman." He said, dropping her to the floor. He stepped over her body and into the hallway, finding people, men and women, dressed in clothes he'd never seen before. It was then he realized he was naked-but he'd beaten Hades without anything on but a hook and a boot, so he didn't feel too self-conscious.

"Sir, please, calm down, and just relax." Someone said from his left. He turned and fixed them with a glare. The man was tiny, old. Older than Daedalus had been when Kratos had last seen him.

"Are you an architect? You old ones always seem to be entwined with engineering." He stepped forward towards the man, who had his hands up in a non aggressive gesture. "I will not strike you if you tell me what I wish to know."

"Kratos!" Someone shouted from behind him. Kratos spun on his heel, eyes narrowing as he glimpsed someone he recognized from far too many moments in his life.

"Athena." He said back, coldly. She had lost her ethereal form, and now possessed a body akin to what she had on Olympus-a human body. "Hope has passed on, and you still torture me? To what point?" He took a few steps towards her and found several men in his way, none of them as large as him and most of them looking rather irritated, untrained, weak. "Out of my way." He intoned. "This is between me and the former Goddess." He spat the last word. Athena put her hands on her hips, which were, oddly enough, in a long white gown that opened at her chest. The clothes underneath? Similar to those of the people standing around him.

"Kratos. I can understand you may be angry, and then some, Zeus knows you don't have a good vent for your anger if you aren't killing someone, but calm down and listen to me." Kratos could feel his temper breaking, but he was in an area he had never seen before. Sure, he'd fought things he'd never seen before, in places he'd never been before, but this place was...unnatural. He'd never been so uncomfortable, even in the Pits of Tartarus. He unclenched his hands, his palms dripping blood from having held them so tightly.

"My swords?"

"You will have them." He grunted, jerking his chin at her.

"Speak your piece." She pointed to the room he'd come out of. He strode slowly into it, not sparing a glance at any of the people in the crowd that had surrounded them. Athena turned around as she approached the door.

"He's a special case-I know him from years ago, I was his therapist. He's a bit..." She made a motion around her ear that Kratos could infer was insulting. A chorus of murmurs came from those in the hallway and she entered the room, closing the door with a click. He loomed over her.

"Answer my questions or I won't hesitate to end your new form." She nodded once and he grunted. "Where am I?"

"That depends." A loud crash was heard and Kratos had his fist through the wall to his left.

"Do not speak in roundabout ways." She didn't twitch. Kratos hated how she didn't seem to be afraid of him.

"You're in a different land. Across the seas from all of Greece and all the countries surrounding it, known as America. And it's been almost sixteen millennia since you denied me my wishes." Kratos pulled his hand out of the wall, staring at it as he flexed it.

"Sixteen...millennia?" He leveled a gaze with her. "I should be dead. I shoved the Sword of Olympus through myself-why am I alive?" She shrugged.

"Myself, I do not know." Kratos stepped back and turned around.

"And how is this world not flooded, with the plagues and storms of what I wrought?"

"I do not know." He spun around.

"The Goddess of Wisdom doesn't know?" A cruel smirk appeared on his lips. "How far you have fallen, Athena." She gained a cruel frown, and her teeth bared.

"I am no longer a Goddess, nor anything of the sort. A new order was established, and even I don't know what it is. I've just been reincarnated over and over, for sixteen millennia, as has everyone else."

"Everyone else?" Kratos asked, eyes narrowing and brow furrowing. "The other gods?"

"Yes."

"All of them? The ones I have slain?"

"Yes." Kratos muttered several curses he'd picked up in the Underworld, fire shooting out of his mouth as he spoke them.

"Is Ares-"

"Yes, he's alive, though across the world. I'm the only one who knows you're alive at the moment. You happened to show up in the middle of the street, just as one of my Hospital's ambulances were driving by, wearing nothing but the chains on your arms and the swords on your back."

"And they are?" Athena gestured to a cabinet in the corner of the room. Kratos walked over to it and opened it, revealing two blades he didn't recognize. "These are not-"

"No, they are not the Blades of Exile-they are the Cleavers of Sanguine." Kratos quirked an eyebrow as he lifted the two unfamiliar sharp edged weapons out of the drawer. They automatically attached to his chains and he spun them around on wrists, already used to the balance of the blades. They were cleavers indeed-long and like the great chopper a butcher would wield, but far more fearsome-the metal was smoldering to the touch and the blades edge was straight, flat, unlike all the serrated edges Kratos had dealt with in the past. A tiny metal skull adorned the hilt of each cleaver and they looked to be...smiling. Something clicked in Kratos' mind.

"What of my other weapons? The bow, the cestus, the hooks-"

"They were shattered, remember? All of your weapons were destroyed in the final battle with Zeus." One more flaming curse left Kratos mouth.

"Thus I am restricted to petty cleavers. I will have to upgrade them with-"

"You cannot endlessly slaughter people in the world today, Kratos." Kratos swung his arms upwards and over his back, the Cleavers held against his skin by a force he never understood.

"Why not?" He asked, turning to Athena. "Why not?" He repeated, quieter. "What has changed?"

"This world is not Greece. It is peaceful, for the most part. There is no Olympus with which you will have to battle-"

"Then why am I here?!" Kratos roared, turning and flipping the bed he'd laid upon, throwing it into the wall across the room. "What is the reason for my existence? I have lived as a Mortal, a God, Fallen, and now I live again! I have done it all! Why?!"

Athena just stood there, arms crossed, silent. Kratos turned back around, kicking the cabinet with his foot, imbedding his toes in the hardwood. He frowned and pulled them back out, kicking it again, kicking it over. "Perhaps this is a time for you to do something other than cause bloodshed." Athena said, turning her head at the sound of the door unlocking. It opened and a nurse leaned in.

"A-Ah, Miss Dinsao, is everything alright?" Athena gave a pointed glare to Kratos, who was letting his frustration out on the remains of the cabinet, stomping them into dust. She turned back to the nurse, an obviously fake smile plastered on her face.

"Everything's fine. We're just getting to know each other once again-he was a patient of mine a while back." The nurse nodded and Athena turned back around to address Kratos again-but the nurse hadn't left.

"Miss Dinsao, some people outside are wondering who he is-I mean, we didn't get a chart at the Nurses Station except for a piece of paper saying this room would be occupied." Athena groaned inwardly and then turned to Kratos, who was still fuming.

"Kratos."

"What?"

"What is your surname?" Kratos scowled and turned back to the rubble that was the cabinet.

"Don't have one, remember?" Athena grumbled and turned back to the nurse.

"His real name is Kurtis Sparteen, but he prefers Kratos, whether or not he's lucid. And that's Kurtis with a K, and Kratos with a K as well." The nurse gave her a look that was basically saying 'what was that conversation I just heard about him not having one, and then you coming up with one?' but nevertheless closed the door behind her. Athena turned back to the Spartan.

"You're giving me a name that is not my own?" He asked, frowning.

"In this time period people have surnames as part of their identification. They don't say 'Of Sparta' or 'Of Argos' anymore. And did you really have to do that to a piece of furniture?"

"Prefer I do it to one of the Olympians outside this room?" He asked, reaching up and grasping the hilt of one of his cleavers.

"They aren't Olympians, they're Americans-incredibly stupid and fat, all of them, but not hostile. No killing." Kratos released the hilt and let out a deep rumble. He threw his hands into the air, holding them up as if praising a deity.

"What now?" He dropped them. "What am I supposed to do, in this time I am not supposed to bring bloodshed?" At this Athena gained a wry grin, and Kratos knew something he didn't like would be coming his way.

"Well, firstly, you need something to wear."

Feed me back, please!


	2. Chapter 2

_"Well, firstly, you need something to wear."_

Athena left the room, closing the door, leaving Kratos alone to sit down in a chair that was made of a material which made his butt itch. A sensation he'd never had to deal with before. It actually began to bend under his weight. He had plenty of things to think about, as he rubbed his hands along the chains on his arms.

"I'm...alive." He muttered under his breath, feeling the cold Dark Steel bindings with his fingertips and with his palm. He'd worn gloves for so long it was an odd sensation to truly feel the metal. More than anything he wanted to rip it off, melt it in Hephaestus forge, but he doubted he'd be able to do that, the way Athena spoke of this 'new order.' The door opened as he dragged his finger along the scar on his belly.

"This is all I could find in the locker room that would fit you. It won't match your eyes, but it won't rip when you pull it on." She tossed a bundle of clothes at him and he caught it all in one ashen hand, narrowing his eyes at the teal color the scrubs.

"Another question, Ex-Goddess." He said, standing up and sorting through the clothes in his hands. He heard Athena's shoes tap against the floor and heard a sigh escape her lips-she was listening. "Why do I not have a great gaping hole in my body, or at least a scar? I only have the one from before-not from after Zeus' death." He glanced up at her as he pulled what he assumed to be a loincloth from the linens.

"I don't have an answer for that-why are you pulling an undershirt up your legs?" Kratos paused what he was doing.

"What? This is a loincloth." He said, looking down. "Though I am curious as to the third hole." He heard an exasperated groan from Athena and looked back up to find her right in front of him, pulling the fabric he'd pulled up his legs back down.

"You put this on like a tunic. A shirt, t-shirt, undershirt, these are modern tunics." She held it out to him. He examined it for a moment, trying to picture how he'd put it on, then did so, taking the blades off his back for a moment and pulling the shirt over his head, then pulling it down so it would reach his waist. The expression on Athena's face made him frown.

"Why are you smiling like a witch?"

"You are like a _child_. As though you were just born into this world." He snarled and snatched up the next piece of clothing from the pile he'd dropped on the floor.

"Technically, I _was_." He ground out through gritted teeth. He stared at the thing he held in his hands and then shoved his arm out to Athena. "Instruct me. I am not used to wearing anything other than my own armor, and that consisted of-"

"A loincloth and not much else. Yeah. Alright." She shook her head and took the pair of pants from him, unfolding them. "These are pants-you just didn't recognize them since they weren't unfolded. Trousers, some people call them. But you're supposed to put underpants on before you put these on." She reached down and snatched up another piece of fabric, a smaller one that was akin to-"The modern loincloth." Kratos took them from her and pulled them up his legs. They were like short pants. "You can call those boxers."

"What are these symbols?" He asked, pointing to the red hearts all over his boxers. Athena couldn't help but crack a grin.

"They are a representation of a heart." Kratos looked down at himself disbelievingly. He'd seen plenty of hearts-ripped them out of chests while they still beat, crushed them in his fist, stomped on them, pulled them out with his blades-but _this..._

"Whoever created this representation must not have seen the real thing." He said, taking the pants from Athena's hands. They were the same teal green as another one of those 'shirts.' He noticed Athena giggling at his comment but did nothing but frown at it. She had never smiled before, much less looked anywhere close to humorous. It was unsettling. "Why do I wear another of these?" He asked, holding the scrubs in one hand.

"It's...you don't have to, if you don't want to-but I'd suggest it. Part of the uniform of those who work here." He regarded the scrubs a moment longer and then tossed them to the chair he'd sat in.

"You called this place_ yours_, and a _hospital_. Explain these terms to me." He reached and put his cleavers back onto his back, the force that held them there working through the shirt. She took a step back and picked something off the ground, part of the pile of clothes Kratos had dropped but hadn't touched yet.

"I run this hospital. A place where people are healed. And these are shoes. Put them on." She held out the two odd pieces of...whatever they were. Kratos took them, muttering something under his breath about how odd it was that the weak weren't left to die, a comment which Athena ignored.

"Greaves?" Kratos murmured, flipping the sneakers around in his hands.

"Same purpose."

"There is no-"

"No shin or calf guard, yeah, remember Kratos, this is a non hostile society most of the time." He grunted and sat down in the chair, it creaking with his weight, and forced his feet into the sneakers. Athena gave a pained moan and crouched in front of him.

"What?" He asked, irritated that_ she_was sounding irritated. She grabbed the laces of his shoes and untied them.

"You have to tie these when you put them on. You know how to tie a knot, right?" Kratos quirked an eyebrow.

"I know the Galaecian Band, the Spartan Cross, the Argan Boon-"

"The Boon is similar to what I'm going to show you. And wasn't the Spartan Cross a technique that had to do with disembowel-forget it, don't want to know." Kratos let a sour lip curl happen to his face and watched Athena go through the motions of tying his laces. "Get it?"

"It _is_the Argan Boon." Kratos said. "You just did a second loop." Athena shrugged, standing up. He did the same. "I'd be much more comfortable without fabric on my chest restricting my movements..." He said, putting a hand on his chest, tugging gently at the fabric. Athena put a hand to her forehead.

"I'm gonna have to explain a whole lot to you." She leveled a gaze with him. "Firstly, we wear clothes in public. That means a shirt and pants, or shorts. So no going down the street stark naked." Kratos grumbled under his breath but nodded. Athena walked over to the door and then stopped, not looking at Kratos. "Weapons are also discouraged, and prohibited in some places." Even without looking she could _feel_Kratos face contort in fury.

_"What kind of prohibition is this?!"_He roared. Athena could feel anger coming off him in waves-but something else as well, something she'd never sensed from him before. Discomfort. He hadn't felt that even when he had a sword through his belly and out his back. She heard him send his hand through the wall again and turned around.

"I still possess some of my abilities." She said, loud enough that he could hear her over his snarling. He glared at her, wrenching his hand from the wall. "Every time I've reincarnated I've been able to do a single thing I could have done when I was still a Goddess. I haven't used it so far, in this life." She meandered over to him, ignoring his rage, and motioned for him to spin around. He did so with a stomp, and she reached up and placed a palm on his blades. The weight disappeared from his back.

"Where did they go?" He ground out, grabbing Athena's arm by the wrist. She didn't even flinch-he was _really_not liking how fearless she was.

"You can call them forth the same way you did your other weapons. They're stored." Kratos released her wrist and then swung both his arms downward. The cleavers burst into existence, gouts of flame spurting from them, attaching themselves to his chains. He willed them away and they faded. He stopped grumbling and looked to Athena, who was putting out a flaming piece of her doctor's coat with her hand. "Happy now?" She asked sardonically, flapping her coat to the side.

"Content." He said, flipping one hand and the blade coming into existence once more. He willed it away once more. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, then he raised his hands once more. "Show me the way, oh Ex-Goddess of Wisdom." She rolled her eyes and turned back around, walking to the door and opening it. Kratos followed her.

"These are Nurses and Doctors." She said, pointing the people around her out as they walked down the hall. "Nurses are typically women and take care of bedside manners, while Doctors work upon treatment of the patients." She heard Kratos growl.

"Men, working to_ heal_others." He scoffed. She elbowed him in the ribs, for what it was worth. Which wasn't much, considering he barely felt it.

"You seem to have possessed all your strength. Hope included, based on the faint blue in your eyes. Though everyone alive possesses that now-yours is much stronger."

"Everyone...has the strength to kill a god?" He mused aloud. He glanced at the people around him. "None of these people could muster such power." He felt that weak poke in his stomach again from Athena elbowing as hard as she could.

"I said yours was much stronger. The strongest. The original Will to Hope-that's what you possess. Come on, let's get out of the building-I'll get you some _actual _clothing." She motioned towards the exit sign and then at the doors below it. Kratos, much to Athena's mirth, jumped backwards at the doors automatic opening. "Surprised? They're automatic." He eyed the doors with suspicion as he walked through.

"I am used to lifting my passageways open."

"You probably won't have to do that here. Everything has been made easier for the regular citizens."

"These Americans are weak." Athena nodded, knowing it was a good summation of the entire human race, not just the Americans. At least, to Kratos. Kratos, who was at the moment staring at a car like it was a demonic entity straight from the Underworld. "What...is that?"

"A car. People use them instead of wagons-speed up transport."

"Where are the horses? The oxen?"

"It doesn't need them." Kratos eyes narrowed, but he said no more as they began walking through the parking lot and approached a blue 'car.' "We'll head to the mall downtown. You might recognize someone there, if they're there today. She works at the females' clothing store." She stepped around the car and unlocked the door. Kratos loomed behind her. She pointed to the handle. "Open it like this on the other side." She pulled the handle and then the door opened, Kratos raising his arm to block a strike instinctively. Athena just jerked her head to the other side.

As Kratos gripped the handle he heard Athena call out-_"Gently!"._ He restrained his strength as much as he could, wrapping his fingers around the handle and_ gently_ yanking the door open. It hit him in the leg as it swung open and he let out a tiny spit of fire-those Underworld curses had a use for every occasion. He stepped into the car like Athena had, hitting his head as he did so-another curse. He pulled his legs in and when he raised his head found himself unable to straighten his neck completely-too tall. Another curse of hellfire. He slammed the door shut and turned to Athena, who was just _laughing_.

_"Something funny?"_He growled. She stopped cackling, but still giggled as she put the keys into the hole.

"Ah-" She cleared her throat and ceased giggling. "The car makes noise when it's turned on. The engine sounds like an explosion, so don't try to kill it, alright?" Kratos eyed the interior of the car as well as he could from his current cramped position, eyes about the only thing able to move with his massive arms pinned to his sides and his legs threatening to break a hole in the floor.

"Anything that_ sounds_ like an explosion can't be good." He said. Athena ignored his remark and turned the keys, the engine revving and then igniting to life. Kratos still jerked in his seat, but made no moves to 'kill the car.' "Who is-no, _what_ is this 'mall', and_ who_is there?" He asked as they lurched forward. Athena was surprised he didn't react to the car moving, but answered his question.

"A mall is...a market, would be the best word to describe it. It's a market with tons of different shops."

"Tons?"

"It's an expression-_many _shops." Kratos blinked, unable to acknowledge any more than that. They soon got onto a main road and Athena felt the car shaking slightly. Kratos looked...nervous? No, Kratos was never nervous. He was discontent, he'd say, with all these other cars around them, how fast they were moving. "You'll get used to things as you go." Athena said as they made a right.

"I have not seen a Nubian for years..." She heard him say. She followed his eyes and saw an African American walking down the street with headphones on.

"Things are different now. There aren't any slaves or discrimination against different peoples of the world like it was in Greece." Kratos grunted noncommittally. "Ah, there's the mall." She said, pointing. The great building came into view and she could feel Kratos eyes widening.

"A _market?_ It's the size of a castle!" He exclaimed as Athena pulled into the parking lot, finding a space after a few moments of searching. They got out of the car, Kratos hitting his head once again and cursing like a drunk trucker.

"Try to restrict your curses to Greek. Not many people will take well to seeing you shoot flames from your mouth." Begrudgingly nodding, Kratos asked a question he'd been pondering for a while.

"How am I able to speak this language? It is certainly nothing I've ever heard before." Athena had no answer as they walked across the parking lot towards the entrance and through another one of those damned automatic doors.

"We're in Nordstroms at the moment. We need to go to a clothing store on the second level." Athena said, walking directly towards the escalator. She stepped on and looked back, finding Kratos staring at the moving stairway. She groaned and walked back down it, having to move quickly in order to reach the bottom. "It's automatic. Put your foot here, put your foot there, and hold the handrail."

"Why are there no _stairs?"_ He asked through gritted teeth, squeezing the handrail as he attempted to get on for the third time. Athena just shook her head from where she was at the top of the escalator.

_"If you can kill the Gods you can get on a damn escalator!"_ She yelled, taunting him. Regardless, he made it up on the next try, growling something about her taunt and how right she was. The people walking around within the mall gave the odd pair their distance, plenty of people staring at Kratos' white skin and red tattoos and scars. He stood out among anyone and everyone. He did not look like someone to be wearing scrubs, even if only the bottom half. What's more, the feminine population was eying him with something he barely recognized-_attraction._ That-_that_ was peculiar. No one except Aphrodite had offered to lay with him since Lysandra's death, and he hadn't bothered to attempt otherwise, too busy killing Gods. Besides, something was just weird about how overdressed and colorful the teenage girls gazing at him were. But more people than that were staring at the chains on his arms. He ignored them.

"See anything you want?" Athena asked, pulling his attention back from the teenagers, who had frozen under his leer. He looked to Athena, then followed her gesture towards the stores that lined the walls.

"What I wear is not an issue to me." He said, turning his gaze back to her. She sighed.

"Then I'll pick for you. Everyone will ask if you work at a hospital, otherwise. Don't want to be mistaken as weak, do you?" Kratos' lip twitched.

"Lead on, Ex-Goddess." Those who heard what he said gave Athena a pointed 'eh?' but she ignored it. She walked to the left, straight towards an Abercrombie and Fitch store. Kratos followed. When they reached the entrance they found a shirtless man, well-toned and muscled, standing there, welcoming people. Kratos' eye twitched.

"It's his job." Athena said before Kratos could rip his shirt off, which he was currently gripping with one hand. "He's paid to welcome people to the store, shirtless."

"_That_ is a job?" Kratos murmured, following Athena into the shop. The young man smiled at Athena as she approached, and his mouth fell open as Kratos stepped forward.

"Welcome!" He said, pulling the grin back onto his face. "You'll find jeans to the left, shirts to the right, jackets in the back and cashiers right behind this wall." He tapped the wall behind him. Athena nodded and walked around that wall, while Kratos eyed him a moment longer. Then he followed Athena, muttering 'weakling' under his breath. Upon sighting Athena he found a piece of fabric held up to his chest-held by Athena, who stood inches from him.

"What are you...XXL?" She mused, switching the piece of fabric with the shirt she held up to him. "Those hospital shirts don't have sizes on them. But I'm _guessing_ this will fit you." She pressed the shirt against him and he took it, examining the writing on the front. It was a green shirt with the logo on the chest.

"What are these words?" He asked, pointing at the Ambercrombie and Fitch written on the front. Athena was already gathering a few more shirts.

"It's a brand name. The name of the store is Ambercrombie and Fitch, so the shirts have that on them. It's marketing, or something. Here, these are jeans, you put them on like pants with this part in front. I think these will fit." She held out the denim pants and he took them as well. Then he dropped them to the floor and brought his hand to his chest to tear his shirt off. "Ah-don't do that heeeeere..." She trailed off as he had already ripped the fabric off. He bent down and pulled the new shirt over his head, his entire torso for everyone in the store to see for a few moments. White ash and red lines, a single massive scar with stitches still in it. He pulled it down. Before he could do the same to his pants Athena grabbed him by the hand.

"You don't take your clothes off in public-you get changed in the dressing rooms, over there." She pointed through one of the sections to a door with 'Dressing' emblazoned above it. Kratos frowned.

"I have no concern whether or not these people see my body." Athena groaned.

_"Just do it."_ He grumbled, but did so, walking through the section of clothes, having to turn sideways to not knock anything over. He entered the room and the door closed behind him. Small spaces. Uncomfortable, but he could deal with it. He pulled off his pants and almost pulled his boxers off was well, but stopped himself. They were probably worn with these _jeans_ as well. He flipped them around so the part Athena had mentioned was in front, and then put his legs into them. Too small. Thankfully, Athena had given him several pairs, all the way up to the largest one. Which fit, just right. He pulled them all the way up his legs and examined the open space at the front, over his crotch. There were no strings to tie it closed, but there was an odd piece of metal that, after a few moments of fiddling and experimentation, he found closed the opening behind itself when pulled upwards. He did the reverse. It opened. He pulled it up once more and-ah, something he finally recognized, though he found it odd to be on regular clothing and not on a piece of chainmail. A clasp-a bit different from ones he'd seen before, but he understood it well enough to put the button through the opening.

He turned around and opened the door, glancing around a moment and finding Athena at the cashier paying for the clothes, along with several other pairs. She caught sight of him as he approached.

"Well, you don't look too bad. The shirt's skin tight, though." He had a serious expression on his face, though. "What is it?"

"What is this odd piece of metal?" He asked, pointing to the zipper. Athena slapped her forehead.

"I should have gone in there with you or something-that's a zipper. It's a way of pulling pieces of fabric together. No, it's not magic." The cashier glanced back and forth between them and decided not to ask any questions, just adding a pair of jeans and t-shirt to the list and then sending them on their way. "Now...let's see if she's here." Athena said, a devious smile appearing on her lips. Kratos didn't like that.

_"Who?_ Can I expect battle to take place?" He asked, brow furrowing. Athena shook her head, her smile growing a bit wider.

"Unless she wants to battle you in the bed again, I'd say no." Those words puzzled Kratos for a moment as they continued walking down the hall.

"Battle...bed-_no._" He said, eyes growing wide. But, alas, it was true, as they entered Victoria's Secret and he saw the woman at the counter.


	3. Chapter 3

**_This is a rough. But people wanted an update, so here's an update. Enjoy._**

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"Ah, Kratos...I was wondering when you'd show up." She purred, bringing her hands together on the counter and pushing her breasts upwards. "Have you come to lay me down once again? It was so_ wonderful_ last time." The people in the shop all double took at that statement, then looked at Kratos, then started murmuring to each other. Most of them were young women, around their twenties. And they _all_ wanted to hear whatever _this_ gossip was. Kratos and Athena approached the counter.

"Aphrodite." Kratos rumbled. "I might consider it. Athena tells me I cannot kill in the present day, so I'll have to gain blood orbs through _other_ methods." A few of the young women in the shop crept closer, hiding behind a rack of lingerie.

"What are they talking about?" One of them whispered.

"Something about sex and blood. Sounds kinky!" Another whispered back. Aphrodite smirked, then lifted herself off the counter and walked around, passing by Athena as though she didn't exist and bringing her hand to Kratos crotch.

"A Spartan always satisfies..." She hissed, adding pressure. He made no movement.

"Athena tells me that I shouldn't remove my clothing in public. A pity, for I am in _dire_ need of stress relief."

"Not my fault you couldn't figure out how to get onto an escalator." Athena said from behind Aphrodite, leaning against the counter. Aphrodite removed her hand and faced Athena.

"He _what?_"

"He was clueless. Took him four tries." They both shared a laugh, one which Kratos was _not_ comfortable with. To see the Ex-Goddess of Beauty and the Ex-Goddess of Wisdom laughing like...friends...

"I doubt I am here purely to bring her to bed. What ulterior motives do you have, Athena?" The laughing cut off, and Athena leveled a gaze with Kratos while Aphrodite walked back around the counter.

"She's able to give you a place to stay."

"Oh? Don't make offers for me, Wise One." Aphrodite said, pulling out a device from her pocket that Kratos had never seen before. "Though, to be honest-" She glanced up at Kratos. "I wouldn't mind too much." Athena rolled her eyes.

"You _know_ what I meant." She faced Kratos. "She can get you an apartment all your own. And, 'dite, didn't you get married?"

"Once an adulteress, always an adulteress." Aphrodite said like it was her motto. "You _could_ stay with me, though." Kratos snorted, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'd prefer not. Dealing with you in bed is one thing. Otherwise is a whole different matter."

"So cold!" One of the women in the clothing rack squeaked.

"Ho? Fine, then. I'll make some arrangements-give me a few minutes." She started pressing her fingers against the device rapidly and asked a question as she did so. "So, why did Athena bring you to me, and not offer for you to stay at her own abode?" Kratos blinked, turning to Athena.

"That's an interesting question." He mused, eyes narrowing. Athena shrugged.

"He smells."

"Sure you don't want the man who can satisfy _me_ to spend a night with you?" Aphrodite teased. Athena frowned, glancing at Kratos.

"No. I'm not interested. I don't know about you, but I don't get off having sex with the person who killed me." Those words stung to Kratos.

_"You_ were the one who got in the way."

"Doesn't matter. You denied me Hope as well." She waved a hand. "Forget about it, I haven't seen you in sixteen millennia. I've got to get back. You can take him wherever you put him?"

"Of course. Don't worry bout a thing." Aphrodite said, looking up and smiling at Athena.

"I'm not so sure..." The Goddess of Wisdom muttered as she walked out of the store with the clothes she'd bought for Kratos, planning to drop them off later, leaving Aphrodite and Kratos behind. Aphrodite, who put her phone away and put her hand on Kratos chest from across the counter.

"Care to gain some blood orbs in the storage rooms?" The women in the rack were just trying to figure out what Athena meant when they heard this and immediately forgot about the whole 'killed me' thing. Kratos' brow furrowed.

"Shouldn't we be going to my new place of residence?"

"We have time." She took her hand off his chest and walked away, gesturing with a single finger to follow. As the women in the racks' mouths fell open, Kratos stalked after her, some great aura of a beastly lust leaking out of him.

To put it succinctly, Aphrodite got fucked. Hard. They came back out of the storage room with her hair mussied up and clothes ruffled-Kratos? He looked like nothing had happened at all, except for his arm being around Aphrodite's waist. They left the store-she owned it, she could go whenever she wanted.

"Hmm...I liked the biting." She said as they walked down the hallway. "And I didn't know you Spartans were so good with your tongue." Anyone listening in on their conversation just stopped to stare for a moment at the looming behemoth with his arm around the waist of the most voluptuous woman they'd ever seen. Were they talking about-"And why were you wearing boxers with hearts on them?" Yep, they were. Kratos didn't answer that question, and instead sidestepped it.

"Only fifty orbs." He said. "You'd think the Goddess of Beauty, even when fallen from Olympus, would be able to put out more."

"Well, how many do you need for your first upgrade?"

"A thousand."

"You'll just have to have sex with me...twenty times, then. We could get three out of the way, at least, on the drive." The people in the hallways were just slack jawed. _What the fuck-why were they having sex twenty times-and how were they going to do it while driving?_

"I am not looking forward to entering another one of those _cars._" Kratos grumbled. Aphrodite laughed, but a yell interrupted her.

"_Hey! _What are you doing with my _wife?!"_ A man's voice came from their right. Kratos turned and looked down at...the guy from the Ambercrombie and Fitch store. In fact, they were walking past it, and he was still shirtless.

"Oh, hey Daryl. This is Kratos, an old friend of mine." Aphrodite said, putting a hand on Kratos chest.

"_Old friend?_ Then what was that I was just hearing you talk about?"

"I fucked your wife." Kratos asked/stated. The man's jaw slacked open but Kratos wasn't actually paying attention to him. "Aphrodite, you married _him._ The one who has a job to stand around shirtless?"

"We met several years ago when I started working here. He's cute, don't you think?" Kratos quirked an eyebrow, glancing over at Daryl.

"Cute?" He mused. "Weak, perhaps. But not 'cute.' Calliope was cute, he is not." He turned his gaze back to Aphrodite. "How can you describe a man as 'cute'?"

_"Hey, I was trying to-"_ Daryl found himself unable to speak when Aphrodite just continued conversing with Kratos as though he wasn't there.

"I don't know. I mean..._cute._ He's not _handsome_, or _battle-hardened,_ like you, so what else should I call him? And no, I'm not calling him weak-that's not a nice thing to say in modern society, didn't Athena tell you that?" She scolded, poking Kratos in the abdomen.

"No."

"Oh. Well, whatever." They began to walk again. Daryl just fell to his knees, watching as his wife of two years walked away with a man he'd seen enter his shop earlier, a man eight feet tall with chains on his forearms, who he stood no chance against. But he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up-Aphrodite had walked back. "I'll be home for dinner at six, and we'll have great make-up sex before, after, and during it. OK?" The charms of the Goddess of Beauty know no bounds-Daryl stood up and went back to work like nothing had happened.

"You simply shouldn't marry, Aphrodite." Kratos said as she walked back to him and they left the mall, Kratos able to get on the escalator on the second try.

"Well, it's nice." She replied as they got into her car. Kratos banged his head again, but restricted his curses to Greek, as Athena had requested.

"Why are these _cars_ so _puny?_"

"Why are _you_ so big?" Aphrodite asked, smirking at the way Kratos was squeezed into the tiny Mercedes. He grumbled in response, his muscles tensing as they made their way onto the highway for a long, arduous half hour until they pulled off and entered a neighborhood. They hadn't been able to get those 150 blood orbs, what with Kratos too big to move. "I've bought you a house. Athena said apartment, but I decided you could use a yard."

"What is an apartment, anyways?" Aphrodite let her lips curl upwards at Kratos' cluelessness.

"It's like a tiny house next to a bunch of other tiny houses. We're here." She pointed out the window at an average sized house with a big front yard and a single large oak in front of it.

"This is to be my residence?" Kratos mused, stepping out of the car and stretching his arms. If he could choose, he would never step into one of those things again, no matter how much faster he moved from one place to another. Aprhodite led him up the front steps. The house was average size, with white paint on the walls and two floors not counting the basement. None of the aesthetics mattered to Kratos. She showed him how to use a key and unlock the door, something he thought could have been useful back in Greece-he'd had a set of armor stolen, once, when he was a Captain of the Spartan Army.

"I'll have to show you how to do everything, I suppose." Aphrodite mumbled, leading him into the foyer. "This is the foyer. It's the entrance room. There's the stairs to get to the second floor. She walked to the right, pulling him along. "I bought this house specifically cause it's got high ceilings. See? You've got a foot of height above you no matter where you are." She pointed to the fireplace. "Make a fire there if you're cold. There's couches to sit on." She pulled him into the kitchen. "This is a refrigerator." She opened it and revealed tons of food already packed in. "I'll have to show you how to eat, too, I guess..."

Over the course of three hours, tedious and monotonous for the both of them, Kratos had a basic understanding of his entire house, along with some of the more basic concepts of the 21st century, like using a sink, or a dishwasher. The latter had given him some trouble, as he was foreign to the concept of doing women's work, but with a long explanation of how women and men were now nearly equal in society and how if Kratos was living _alone_, he learned the task and told himself he'd do it. They sat down at the kitchen table for some last minute rules.

"I'd suggest you read this." Aphrodite pulled a small book from her back pocket. "Even _I_ have to check up on the laws, as I forget them sometimes-I was as attached to the ways of the Greeks as you are now. It's in Greek, so you can read it-unless you've lost that ability?" Kratos snatched the tiny notebook and opened it, rifling through the pages. It was in Greek, sure, but some of these laws were as foreign as English.

"What is this 'loitering'?"

"Standing around."

"But...we _all_ stand." Aphrodite shrugged.

"The important rules are on the back page." Kratos immediately turned there and began to read aloud.

"These are paraphrased, obviously, for our mutual benefit?" He asked, glancing up for one moment to see Aphrodite shrug once more. "Don't kill anyone, don't hurt anyone, don't steal, don't fight, don't be a dick-how can one-"

"It means don't be insulting. It's slang." Kratos just shook his head.

"It will take time to get used to these 'slang.' What's this, don't what?" He held the book out to her. "This word isn't Greek."

"Oh, some of these words don't translate. There isn't a Greek word for forced-sex."

"Forced-sex?"

"It's called rape. Sex with someone who doesn't want it. That means you only get blood orbs from people through a _relationship,_ not through _conquest._ Understand?" Kratos nodded.

"Very well, Aphrodite. I will speak to Athena when she arrives later, and confer more about these _laws._" She stood up and walked out without a word, glad to finally get out of that place. Kratos mumbled to himself as he read through the book one more time. Based on what Athena had said earlier, coupled with what this tiny book said, he shouldn't use his Cleavers at all. No weapons and no fighting-besides, if he _did_ fight, he probably wouldn't need a blade to do so. He'd kill gods with his bare hands, why not a regular person?

He stood up, putting the book in his back pocket. Perhaps these _jeans_ weren't as useless as they seemed-the multiple storage places were helpful. Walking to the _refrigerator_ he opened it and pulled the milk out, pouring a glass and then swallowing it in one gulp. He didn't quite like the concept of eating breast milk when fully grown, but apparently, based on Aphrodite's explanation, it was 'good' for him. Thus, he drank.

Hours passed. A nervous twitch was starting to develop in Kratos neck from not having done anything physical in so long. He stood up, walking around the Den. Growling, he shoved his keys in his pocket and opened the door, slamming it shut behind him, then took off at a fullblown sprint down the street. He needed _movement,_ some sort of battle, whether with another person or against his own body. He could feel his chest start to burn, his legs start to cramp at the pace he was going, and it was _satisfying._ The ground beneath his feet actually cracked with every step, though not too much.

He'd been running for three hours when he finally slowed down. He didn't recognize where he was, but he was still in a 'neighborhood.' Thanks to a good sense of direction and the fact that he'd been going straight the entire time, he turned around and began jogging back. The shoes on his feet felt odd, but he didn't really mind them all that much. What was truly irritating were the pants, how restrictive they were. He wanted his loincloth back. It was so much more _practical._

As he jogged back he passed what Aphrodite had pointed out as a 'park.' He slowed down, watching several children run around and climb on the various structures looming over the woodchips. Slowly, he walked towards the bench, and sat down, watching them. One of them looked _just_ like Calliope. But he knew it was impossible. She was gone. He became aware of a presence to his left, and found a man half his age approaching the children. He hadn't even noticed the Ghost of Sparta sitting on the bench, as his thoughts were apparently elsewhere. The other people in the park _had_ noticed him, and were either looking away out of common decency, or staring at him.

Several women formed a group to the side of the park, talking amongst themselves. No one was near Kratos. And all of the children were oblivious to the world. But the man approaching the children stood out. He was wearing all black, a hood covering his head. The sun had started to fall an hour ago, and it was slowly getting dimmer. But it was still warm, and the children were still playing. Kratos watched as the man stepped closer and closer to the children, then reached out with one arm to touch one on the arm. The Calliope look alike stared at the man a few moments. And then she started screaming, turning and running away-but the man had her by the arm and another hand around her mouth, a small pad of green against her lips. The other parents hadn't even noticed. But a certain spartan had.

"What are you doing?" A low voice asked from behind the man. Before the man could answer or even look around he was lifted off the ground by the back of his shirt, then turned to face the scariest person he'd seen in his entire life in the eyes. "Is the child your own?" Kratos asked, looking at the child, who now lay unconscious on the ground. His eyes narrowed. "I think not." With a heavy swing he tossed the man into the constructed pieces of metal, a loud crack heard as one of his arms broke with the impact. The man stood up, clutching his arm, and ran away. The women had heard. And as they watched the man run away they turned to look at Kratos, who was gently scooping the girl up with one chained forearm.

"Get away from her!" One of them cried, running towards him with both fists raised, pheromones leaking out of her in a motherly frenzy of protectiveness. Kratos didn't look up at her, instead lightly tapping the child's cheek. He felt someone poke his head. Oh, sorry, punch-as-hard-as- she-could, his head.

"Is she yours?" He rumbled, standing up, still holding the child. The woman reached out and snatched the girl from his grasp, which had been very light from the start. "What happened to her? The man put some cloth to her mouth and now she is unable to-" it clicked in Kratos' mind.

_"Was she poisoned?"_ Before she could say anything to him he had taken off running, his mind shutting down except for raw would _dare_ to poison a child? A child who looked _just_ like his own, _who __**dared? **_It was easy to follow him-he hadn't even left the park, leaning against a tree. He was still clutching his arm, and when he heard something approaching he looked up, only to have himself grabbed by the collar and pinned against the tree. "How _dare _you!" Kratos roared, slamming him against the tree. "What _possible_ purpose could you have for killing a child?!" he stuttered for the brief moment Kratos gave him to speak.

"S-She's not d-d-dead!" He cried when Kratos fist was an inch from his face. Everything froze.

"She's not...dead." Kratos repeated, letting his hand slack and the man drop to the ground, a sobbing mess. But Kratos regained his composure and grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him off the ground. "You will beg your forgiveness from the child's mother. You will _beg._" In less than a moment they were back at the park and the woman was gently rocking her child in her arms. The girl was barely five years old. The woman? Kratos couldn't tell-women always kept their age a secret. But without hesitation Kratos dropped the man in front of her and kicked him in the ribs. _"__**Beg."**_ he growled. The man began sobbing apologies, begging for forgiveness, praising the woman as an angel, anything and everything. When he finally turned into a shivering wreck of groans and moans and sobs Kratos turned his gaze to the woman. She looked...astonished. She wasn't even looking at the man-she was just staring at Kratos.

In her motherly fury Clara hadn't even noticed the man, other than the fact he was holding her daughter. But now, child safe in her arms, she just stared at him. Pale white skin, like ashes themselves, a great red tattoo on his face and arm. He was at _least_ three feet taller than her. Two massive chains were curled around his forearms, and from the looks of them they were _burned_ into his flesh, fused against his skin and the muscle underneath. It looked _painful._ The look on his face was that of rage former as he _snarled_ at the man to **_"Beg_**" for her forgiveness. When he looked at her she swore she saw his eyes flash blue for a moment.

"What would you have of him?" He asked, resting a foot on the man's back. Clara blinked back into reality.

"W-What?" She turned to her fellow mothers. "Call the police!" Instantly several phones were out and dialing 911. She turned back to the man. "Ah-just...just make sure he doesn't leave. The police will arrest him." The answer seemed to suffice, as the man removed his foot and promptly sat down on the man below him, a gasp coming from the pedophile as he now had trouble breathing. Clara examined this man as well. "Oh god-is his arm _broken?"_

"Yes." Kratos rumbled, looking rather placated now. "Children are not to be touched. Anyone who poisons a child should have their guts strewn out by horse-tug." Clara felt herself rather horrified by the expressions he used, but noticed how he was _staring_ at her daughter. With almost...sadness.

"Are you a father?" The question made him stiffen and instantly Clara regretted asking. Probably a touchy subject.

"My child is dead." Oh, yeah, definitely touchy. "She..." His furrowed brow softened slightly. "She looked similar to yours." Now it was getting a bit awkward. She cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry." He turned away, staring at the ground. "My daughter's name is Samantha...what...was yours?" Clara pried, leaning on one foot then the other, feeling uneasy asking questions of such a large man. Such an intimidating man, someone with chains in their arms. But the question made his expression soften even further, and she swore his lips had curled upwards for a moment.

"Calliope." He spoke it with such...emotion, such devotion. Clara stepped to the side and sat down cross legged in front of him, Samantha in her lap.

"That's a wonderful name." He nodded.

"Her mother picked it. I was not good with names, nor was I there when she was born." His scowl came back. "I was busy fighting with a false purpose."

"You were in the war?"

"Several." Clara nodded, looking down at her daughter. She'd been so close to just losing her at the hands of this pedophile, and now, this massive hulk of muscle had stopped that from happening. But _he_ had lost his own. Such thoughts were horrifying-to lose her child would be heartbreaking.

"My uncle's in the army. 31st regiment." No bells were rung, and the look on the man's face turned sourer.

"I did not fight for this country."

"O-oh." Clara silenced herself, glancing around, checking if the police officers were there yet. They weren't. She cleared her throat once more. "I'm Clara Murfou." She held out her hand, hesitantly, as she wasn't too sure about touching that pale skin. He stared at her hand a few moments, as if in disbelief.

In reality, he was trying to remember the name Athena had given him. He reached out and gently gripped her hand, at odds with doing so with a woman, and slowly brought it up and down.

"Kurtis Sparteen. I prefer Kratos." Clara nodded and they released each other's hands.

"Do you live around here?" In response Kratos turned and looked at the road, going over his mental map.

"I live roughly an hour away, in that direction." He pointed. "I am...new here."

"Just get out of the war-or, I mean, a war? My other uncle did too, with a purple heart-he's having problems adjusting, what with PTSD and all that." Clara clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized how forward she'd just been. _He might not have PTSD or anything of the sort, gosh, why did you say that?_ But he didn't look perturbed-he looked thoughtful.

"Why did his heart turn purple?"

"Ah-what?" He seemed completely serious, though Clara couldn't imagine why. "It's, uh, a medal for getting wounded in action."

"A medal for injury?" He scoffed. "Everything has changed. I will have to converse with Athena more, and try to understand all of..." he gestured to the sky. "This."

"You're new...to the _country._" Clara guessed. He nodded.

"I am from Greece." Clara's eyes went wide and she leaned forward.

"O-oh, do you speak it? I was trying Rosetta Stone for Greek and I've been looking for someone to practice with!"

"Rosetta Stone?"

"A language software-here, let me try-" She ran a few phrases through her head. _"Nice to meet you, my name is Clara Murfou."_ She said. Kratos cringed at the butchering of the pronunciation.

_"You can barely speak it at all-stick to whatever language this is, and you'll be better off."_ He said in one breath without effort. Clara just stared at him.

"I...didn't understand any of that." She mumbled, looking away, feeling a bit embarrassed. Kratos gave no comforting assurance, as the police showed up moments later. The policeman gave one look at Kratos and had his hand on his holster.

"Ah-what's going on? I heard someone tried to kidnap-" Clara pointed to the man underneath Kratos, who was now standing up, looming over everyone. "Oh."


End file.
